


Where Kinks and Breakfast Meet

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Series: The Intersection 'Verse (SPN Kink Bingo 2020) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Because fuck Cas getting kicked out of The Bunker, Domestic Fluff, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mal wrote a thing, SPN Kink Bingo, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Soft Dom!Dean, Soft sub!Cas, Switching, human!Cas, s9 divergence, switching implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22466176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: But he still wants to engage Cas. Fully. He’s just unwilling to put Cas at a similar risk, despite Cas’ persistent reassurances that his drop was related to the realisation that hit him mid-play. They do further research together. Into shibari. Into bondage. Into subspace. Drops. Both on the Dom and sub’s end.A few days ago, Dean found a promising list, which he insisted they fill in to avoid a repeat performance. With everything they have been up to, Dean has faith (who knew?) they are compatible, but he wants clarity. He smiles at the feelings that loosens up inside his chest and huffs, rolling his eyes at himself.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Intersection 'Verse (SPN Kink Bingo 2020) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615579
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo, SPN Kink Bingo 2020





	Where Kinks and Breakfast Meet

Dean lifts his head so the water cascades down his face and chest. His muscles hum like a melody under the memories of last night, his heart along with it, and he allows the fog of sleep to dissipate into the mist of the hot water.

It’s quiet in The Bunker. Sam is out on his morning jog. Cas is still asleep. He sleeps more now that he’s human, especially after a night like the one they shared. Nothing exotic. No experiments. Blissful, cushioned, honest-to-God exploration. Cas is greedy in ways that sends Dean’s blood rushing, just thinking back to it. He can’t fault Cas for it. Hell, he’s greedy himself. Probably needy. Likely both. Undoubtedly both. Again, he’s grateful he doesn’t have to express all this in words. He intends to express it at the intersection they find themselves on. 

Since the moment he watched Cas drop while he was responsible for him, Dean experiences a familiar feeling. A reluctance. Borderline fear, though he is loath to admit it. Not to engage Cas, because he can’t get enough of him. The years of dancing around each other seem to have caught up to him with a vengeance. In fact, he’s sure they are nigh attached at the hip, pun fucking totally intended. He wants to sink into Cas and never let go. In its intensity, it probably ought to scare him, but it doesn’t. Having been where he’s been, few things scare Dean, least of all Cas.

Except for two things. The idea of hurting Cas. And losing him. He tries to skip away from those dark abysses in his mind, by shaking the water out of his hair.

He remembers cradling Cas into his arms. His trembling was violent, not skin-deep, but stemming from his very core, vibrating through him at a frequency that had Dean worried he’d have to get him to a hospital. Dean wondered if he’d done something wrong, chastising himself mutely and out loud since then for venturing into the experience so recklessly.

But he still wants to engage Cas. Fully. He’s only unwilling to put Cas at a similar risk, despite Cas’ persistent reassurances that his drop was related to the realisation that hit him mid-play. They do further research together. Into shibari. Into bondage. Into subspace. Drops. Both on the Dom and sub’s end. So he realises he suffered one in the wake of their moment and that he went about handling it the wrong way.

A few days ago, Dean found a promising list, which he insisted they fill in to avoid a repeat performance. With everything they have been up to, Dean has faith (who knew?) they are compatible, but he wants clarity. He smiles at the feelings that loosens up inside his chest and huffs, rolling his eyes at himself.

Sam is curious whenever he sees them nearly in each other’s lap. Dean can tell he knows. He doesn’t even bat an eye at the shift in dynamics and he loves his brother all the more for it. To be fair, it feels natural like barely anything changed, despite Dean’s world being rearranged into something new and bright and so close to perfect, if only he can keep the outside world at bay.

His human Cas is… something else entirely, he muses as he towels off. Gorgeous. Curious. Wild in some ways - he sees the proof on his skin reflected back at him in the mirror - and adorably shy in others. Fearless. His grace is gone, but for the intensity in his eyes. Sometimes Dean thinks he can see them glowing still, but those are Cas’ emotions bleeding through. Recklessly. Openly. At times, Dean swears he can see his wings. When Cas is riding him, they seem to fold into the shadows of the night, blending with the soft light in his bedroom. Cas walks as if they’re still there, with a charismatic strength that turns Dean to goo every time and belies Cas’ humanity.

Because Cas is also squishy. Which freaks Dean out to no end. He’s always wanted to keep Cas safe, but in his current state, that urge is exponentially stronger. He likes to believe he’s keeping a good lid on it.

It’s why he engaged Cas on his explorations when they first revealed themselves. He wanted, no, _needed_ to give Cas the safest possible space to do so. Because it wasn’t like Cas had a huge network to fall back on. He deserved someone he could trust. Somewhere along the way Dean also accepted that he really didn’t want Cas exploring that particular part of humanity with strangers, the idea of it sending bile up the back of his throat. He sees red at the mere thought, but that threat at least seems to be off the table.

Sort of. Dean wonders if Cas will want to move on. In the past week, several options have crossed his mind. On a bad day, he believes Cas deserves much more than what Dean has to offer. And on strange days, he hopes Cas may be able to have a normal human life rather than the endless nightmare that seems to be theirs. If he plays his cards smart, maybe Cas can have something better.

Because a part of Dean is convinced that eventually something will derail what they have. His heart threatens to shatter at the thought, so he sets his jaw and shelves it. He tugs on his hot dog pyjama pants and his bath robe, tying it loosely at the waist. He will take what he can get, what Cas is willing to give as long as he can.

At least, that’s what he told himself in the beginning, before Cas’ confession. Their mutual confession. Now he’s not so sure he wants to accept the option of letting Cas go so easily. Dean’s a lot less wordy than Cas’, which should surprise no one. But the feeling is there, encapsulated in every word he does speak, and it burns as bright as a thousand suns. Cas seems to taste the flavour of his tone. Reads beyond the audible, like he is one of the poems in his collection. Which is hilarious because when it comes to that intersection, that meeting of souls, Dean feels Cas is the poetry. Dean is the corporeal, the earthly, the anchoring.

He makes his way to the still empty kitchen and efficiently starts cooking up breakfast. Coffee, toast, pancakes, omelettes. The whole shebang. He prepares a bowl of fresh vegetables for Sam’s omelette, whenever he gets back. It isn’t long before an adorably-sleepy, messy-haired Cas sloths into the kitchen, squinting at the world as he rakes a hand through his hair. His expression shifts to elated the nanosecond he sees Dean. He beelines to Dean for a good morning kiss and wraps himself so naturally around Dean, he almost feels wrapped in wings. Damn, he can get used to this. Dean’s brain shuts down, besides the tactile, endorphin-fuelled parts. He lets go of the spatula and cups Cas’ face, breathing him in.

Cas is fond of his hygiene too, Dean smiles, as he flavours the sharp taste of mint on his tongue. Cas moans and slips his hands into his robe, undoing the belt, a pleased hum joining the sound when he notices the lack of a shirt. When he lets go, Dean’s eyes are met by fond, soft blue ones. He feels himself relax, from his forehead to his shoulders to his knees – _hold it together, Winchester_ – and sighs softly.

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” Cas says, a mild accusation in his voice, which has Dean smirking wide.

“You’re welcome.”

He can’t help it. Cas falling apart under the tips of his fingers, under his tongue, on his dick… Yeah, it’s an aesthetic in itself. The way he affects Dean is quite another which sends a jolt of desire up his spine, one that settles under his sternum happily. Soothingly.

“I brought the lists,” Cas says.

Cas pours two cups of coffee and sets one down on the counter next to the fire. He plucks two sloppily folded small stacks of paper out of his robe. Dean smiles when he sees Cas is wearing one of his band shirts. The next second the warmth in his chest nudges him that Cas needs his own clothing and he resolves to go shopping with him.

“Wanna go over them?”

“Yes.”

The determined, valiant tone in his voice has Dean quirking an eyebrow, but Cas doesn’t notice. Instead he sits down at the table, sipping his coffee. He unfolds the lists and starts setting the table: cutlery, syrup, sugar, butter. Juice, milk. Dean stacks the pancakes on one plate, shakes the omelettes out of the pans onto two more plates and places everything on the table.

He always loved eating. But he particularly loves breakfasts with Cas. And Sam, if he can be bothered not to run himself into a heart attack, he thinks, as he casts a quick glance at his watch. Maybe they kept him up last night.

They settle into their seats, sliding their plates around. Cas leans forward and inhales the scent of his food, eyes closed, expression one of contentment. Before he opens them again, Dean feels his feet sidle up to his. He loves the feel of Cas’ socked feet on his. They’re soft and warm and even in this little gesture, they respond so naturally to each other. He’s sure his smile can blind lesser beings than Cas.

Dean digs into the warm food and pulls his list closer. “Alright, where would you like to start?”

“Well,” Cas mouths around a pleased groan. He is preoccupied by his food for a few appreciative moments. “I noticed it’s easier to know for sure what I don’t want… the hard limits.”

“Makes sense,” Dean nods. “We usually know better what we don’t want, but ask us what we do want and we turn into blithering idjits who can’t make up our minds. Or maybe it’s fear of making a wrong choice.”

Cas chews and nods as he tilts his head. “I suppose that makes sense.” He licks his lips. “Lucky I’m quite certain about some of my choices.”

Dean bats his lashes at him. Seriously, Dean Winchester is batting his eyelashes at his… his… wait… what? His lips part in bemusement at the stuttering halt in his thoughts.

“Cas? What are we?” he blurts out.

Dark eyebrows rise delicately and Dean exhales slowly at the affection he sees in his face. Cas seems to have stopped holding back entirely. He barely misses a beat when he replies. “Best friends. Lovers. Partners. We always have been.”

When Dean just stares, Cas narrows his eyes and arches one eyebrow at him in ways that’s doing things to his insides. “Yes?” he asks in a tone that sparks across Dean’s skin.

“Yes,” Dean inhales, trying to reboot his brain. “Yes, definitely.”

Cas looks back to his list and frowns, all business. Annoying, if Cas isn’t so cute. “I don’t like humiliation. In fact, for me the whole degradation thing is off the board.”

Dean blinks and starts eating again, catching up. He figured as much when he saw the items in that subsection of the list. With everything he’s been through, there is no way he can see Cas in that kind of role. Which inches up perfectly to his own preferences. “Good, cause I don’t get off on that.”

He catches Cas glancing at his list as if to make sure Dean is telling the truth. Dean reaches over to slide his fingers between Cas’.

“Cas, seriously, I have no interest in humiliating you or treating you as a slave. Hell, hurting you only works because _you_ ’re so into it and I get to watch your delicious responses and praise you to cloud nine.”

He flusters as much as Cas in that moment. It’s one thing to do it, another to say it out loud. The gleam in Cas’ eyes suggests they’re both remembering. Dean’s breathing hitches for a second and he presses his feet into Cas’ harder, feels his fingers entwine with his.

“This is interesting,” Cas says, voice lower.

Dean nods, taking back his hand to shove food into his dry mouth.

“So a mutual praise kink?”

“I think so,” he says around his food. “Not sure if I want to receive, but I love praising you…”

Cas quirks an eyebrow at that, scribbling something down. “Uh-uh,” he hums. “Thank you for making breakfast, Dean, it’s delicious. Much like you.”

Dean gulps sharply, wishing that his body would calm the fuck down and not betray him like this. He feels an urge to hide and suddenly wishes they were in bed, so he could. Hide in Cas’ neck or the pillows. Though he also knows they’d get hopelessly distracted and this is important.

“You’re cheating with that voice, but point potentially made, Cas.”

The smile that gets hits another mark, one Dean isn’t sure he can identify. The list is factual. Clear-cut. The dialogue that stems from it is steeped in desires and emotions. It’s heaving on a touch of tease and humour in ways he hadn’t expected, but he feels that is a good discovery.

“You mention treating me as your slave…” Cas trails off, brow furrowed.

Dean shakes his head, while he gets out a fresh plate for both of them. Pancakes will help him focus.

“Not treating you as a slave,” he says, wagging a finger. “Or the other way around. I’ve been in chains, I don’t need to be again.”

Cas nods, jotting something else down on his list. “I think we established I like being tied up and… spanked.” He grumps and looks at Dean in exasperation. “Why do I blush when I say these things out loud?”

Dean laughs softly, as he pours a generous amount of syrup over his pancakes. “Your guess is as good as mine, Cas. Maybe cause we don’t talk about this kind of stuff on the regular. It’s not like you bring it up in daily conversation when you meet someone on the street or when you’re on a hunt.”

“Well, maybe it ought to be,” Cas huffs. “I feel warm and… I want to…”

Dean’s eyebrows go up, as his eyes start twinkling.

“I want to concentrate,” Cas says, shooting him a soft glare. “You said this is important and I agree. So what about you?”

He shoots Cas a wink, oozing some of his feelings into it, and concedes.

“I might have a thing for public places,” Dean says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Whether it’s at his own expense or because he’s nervous, he doesn’t know.

Cas’ eyes sparkle. “How do you mean?”

Dean gives him an indulgent look as he flavours the pancake in his mouth, drawing out the moment.

“Baby springs to mind. The barn where we met.”

His blood flows faster at the thought and he watches with delight the effect it has on Cas.

“Oh, fuck me, Dean.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up at the blunt reaction. “Yes? I mean, either/or, really. Fuck me.”

Enthusiasm almost vibrating off of him, Cas surges forward, as if Dean’s pulling at him with invisible force. “Say again?”

Dean isn’t sure what to make of his expression. Innocent with a touch of… dominance?

_Oh._

An almost feral grin splits his face. The list was too binary to his tastes, forcing his hand to choose either Dom or sub, so he accepts this opening gladly.

“Cas, if I can swing both ways on gender, I can swing both ways on roles… I’m flexible.”

A blush tinging his cheeks, Cas ticks something off on his list without even looking and licks his lips, a soft uptick to one corner of his mouth. “Actually, I think I’m the more flexible of the two of us.”

Sam coughs from the door. Dean and Cas look up in unison, one squinting, the other trying hard to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

“You’re back,” Cas smiles warmly.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough. So we’re having these conversations at the breakfast table now?”

He pants, wiping a hand down the shirt that’s clinging to his chest.

“Aww, come on, Sammy, it’s healthy too. Honest, open conversation,” Dean grins.

“That’d be a first,” Sam dead-pans.

“How was the jog?”

“Longer than usual, cause something messed with my night’s sleep.”

With a gentle eye-roll, Dean gets up from the table, coffee in hand, and begins cooking up Sam’s omelette. His brother peeks at the contents of the pan and his face lights up when he sees the effort Dean made.

“Coffee’s fresh and there’s pancakes.”

“Alright, fess up, what did you do?” he says jokingly.

Cas is still taking notes, which gives Dean a split second to wonder just what epistles he is writing based on their conversation, when he replies. “ _Me_.”

Dean chokes on his coffee. Sam claps him on the back, exclaiming an exasperated “Cas!” over his shoulder. Cas just smiles at them, as he puts one list on top of the other and slides them aside.

“We can continue this in the bedroom.”

“Not again,” Sam sighs softly.

“Yes,” Dean grins.

He glances at Cas, feeling like he’s glowing like a lighthouse. At all of this. The ease between Sam and Cas. The conversation that was at once wholesome and a turn-on. The way his world has shifted in less than a week. Sam takes the omelette from him gratefully and passes behind Cas, sliding a hand over his shoulders easily. Cas smiles up at him, sliding his empty plate away and leans back. There’s a touch of regret to how he moves, which is a very human experience, he thinks. Over-eating.

Dean walks up to the table, but on Cas’ side. He cards his fingers through the thick, dark strands and twists them into it. Cas looks up at him, a flicker in his eyes that makes his breath hitch. They’re not done with those lists. Not by a long shot.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so the boys from the first filled square wouldn't leave me alone. This follows [Where The Corporeal and Poetry Meet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452286). It's worth a read to get a feel for Castiel's point of view, but it's not strictly necessary to enjoy this one, I believe. Still, Dean and Cas are better together.
> 
> Square two filled: Kink Negotiation.
> 
> Come join fellow SPN/Destiel weirdo aficionados on [the Profound Bond Discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond)! Demons of a feather flock together <3
> 
> As always, thank you for joining us here and do drop a line if this provoked a response.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


End file.
